


To Bring Together The World

by bumblebree13



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Basically, Comedy, Drabble Set, Fluff, Horror, Multi, Supernatural - Freeform, anything you can think of, gen - Freeform, range with, there's a fuckton of characters, trust me on this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-17 14:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4670873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblebree13/pseuds/bumblebree13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles, one shots, mini series, and several other types of writing. These can range from around 100 words to 5,000 and it all depends on what my mind decides to create. Several different pairings will be explored, including rare pairs. I am open to requests! There will be a lot of South Italy Romano, as I love him. Please give this a try!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Can You Not?

**Author's Note:**

> This is an angsty little half one shot. I wasn't exactly sure where this would go, but I hope y'all like it regardless :)

Of all the people Romano was used to being rejected by, Spain was the last one he had expected. To be fair, it hadn’t been an outright rejection. Instead, it was careless words that had curled in the air like smoke and had shoved themselves down the nation’s throat, choking him until he couldn’t breathe, until his lungs were full of suffocating tar.

It had been an awful feeling. Well, to hell with had been, it still was. It had been nearly two hours, and yet the sludge in his chest persisted. All Romano had tried to do was join in what Spain had been doing. It was right at the end of one of the older country’s festivals. Parades, plays, musicians, and a whole array of other cultural celebrations had gone on. Spain had, as always, invited Romano over.

Who was Romano to say no? He had gone, of course. He had stayed at Spain’s house, and had been exactly as he had always been. Hot tempered, foul, but over all enjoying himself there. It wasn’t as if that was exactly a new development. Spain was used to it.

...But Spain had invited guests. That was no surprise; it was a holiday, and Spain liked to have people over. Romano didn’t mind. In fact, he mingled with some of them, allowed Veneciano to hug him, said hello to Germany, and even greeted France. All in all, he was in a pretty good mood, despite his frequent curses and annoyed looks. He hadn’t thought something so fun as the festival could be grounds for a crushed heart.

He had walked up to the man when he was talking with a few other people. They were laughing and joking, and as he stood near, he could tell they were talking about some sort of game or something. Romano didn’t really know what it was, but he would have liked to maybe try it. Trying it meant getting information on it, though.

Standing near Spain’s side, he waited until there was a half a second pause. “So what’s this game?” he asked, brows furrowed, one hand pushed into the pocket of his jeans.

Spain looked over to him, and Romano was nearly shocked to see the man looking… annoyed. It was an emotion he was definitely not used to seeing from Spain, and even less with it directed at him. “As I was saying,” Spain said, turning his attention away from the Italian. “If you just head through the door on your right after the maze, you’ll be in a long dining room. If you choose the left door, you have to kill one of your companions.”

Romano blinked, the words fading into a sort of buzz to his ears. The shock of it was enough to keep him silent for the first few minutes, but then his cheeks went bright red. Romano pushed the other nation by the shoulder. “Hey, jack ass! I asked what the game is, not to be shoved away! Tell me what the fuck the game is called!”

This time, the look that Spain gave him was even more harsh. It was like he was cutting into his soul, and it didn’t feel good- not in the least. “Roma,” he said calmly, tilting his head up. “Can you not?”

It was four words. It shouldn’t have hurt like it did.

But it did.

Romano felt as though his throat was swelling and closing up. He managed to swallow and said nothing. He couldn’t. Turning on his heel, he headed through the crowd, pushing his way past people, barely throwing a glance back to see that Spain was still talking to the same people as before, smiling once more.

No one tried to stop him as he burst through the doors. Romano made himself into the guest bedroom, shut the door, and fell to the bed. He could feel tears gather in his eyes, but he didn’t let them fall, preferring to stuff his face into a pillow. 

Romano bit his lip, tasting copper on his tongue. He didn’t care. Lifting his head, he pulled out his phone and moved his flight home from a week from then to the next day. Perhaps…

Perhaps he should just leave. Spain seemed to be able to handle things well without him. Perhaps he should just give up. Perhaps he wasn’t wanted.

Yes, he decided. That was it.

He just... wasn’t... wanted.


	2. The Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short Germano piece. I like imagery.

The night was perfect for forbidden things.

Ludwig's hands pressed black charcoal smudges into his hips. The air around them was hot and heavy, damp in their lungs but moving too fast to allow the exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide to finish in all the particles. Soft olive met creamy white, their bodies whispering secrets to each other in the luminescent tones of the moonlight filtering in languidly from the window.

Muted brown spread like a halo around his head; fingers curled in loosened blond locks, he arched his back, reminiscent of a feline's gentle curves. Ludwig's lips tasted of their dessert of caramel brownies, and the words that trembled to his ears were like prayers to the god the German thought he was. He was no such thing, but he had never felt anything quite so close to heaven.

One hand lifted from his waist to take his. Fingers entwined, hearts pounding as steel boots on wood floors, bodies slick and hot and _close,_ they were closer than they had ever been. 

A stuttering cry of Ludwig's name fell from his bitten, swollen lips. The rush was sweet. If he was the man's god, then he would shower singing thanks upon his follower. The feeling of a sun warmed day spread through his limbs, the release so perfect he could only press together foreheads and whisper promises, keep the conspiracies of their love between the two of them. 

And it was dark, and the moon was out, and the world turned on, but for those moments, it was no one else but Ludwig and him. And that was all he hoped it would ever be.

 _"Ti amo,"_ Lovino murmured.

And Ludwig replied, _"Ich liebe dich auch."_

Yes, the night was good for forbidden things.


	3. Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Germano. A study on eyes.

He heard somewhere, some time, to fall in love with the eyes of someone before anything else. Eyes, after all, hold light, life, love, and that special sparkle when seeing a precious thing. And maybe, he had subconsciously taken that into account, because he didn't know if he loved the man, but he couldn't get enough of his eyes.  
He couldn't stop noticing the way his eyes would gleam as he teased his brother. He couldn't look away from the crinkles that appeared when he was moments away from smiling. He couldn't keep himself from searching out the beautiful brown green hues in meetings and in crowds and over dinner tables.   
Whoever said that brown eyes were boring had never met Lovino.

They had never seen any of those things. They had never watched the way Lovino's long lashes brushes his cheeks when he closed his eyes in bliss from his favorite foods. They had never seen the light that came from the Italian's very soul to disprove the scowl that sculpted his expressions. He fell for it all, and he fell hard.  
And the first time Ludwig saw that light fade, it was like his whole world had fallen apart.

From that moment forward, Ludwig vowed to himself that he would do all he could to prevent that ever happening again. It put him out of his comfort zone, but he stayed true to his promise. Outtings with both their brothers would somehow align with something Lovino liked. Combined dinners involved more pasta, more seafood. And when he noticed that Lovino preferred white sauces, particularly ones with mushrooms, his desk suddenly became a recipe box of sorts for just those things- Feliciano's distaste for mushrooms be damned.

That light slowly got a little bit brighter and a little more vibrant. Sometimes, Ludwig was even privy to little moments he had never noticed before. For example, when Lovino laughed- actually laughed, not just snickered- it was full and loud and somehow tainted by his accent. And then came the realization that when Lovino said "chigi", it meant that he was either thinking fondly or finding his current situation to be emotionally embarrassing.

To top it off, he learned that Lovino loved puns and there came a day when he showed up to Ludwig's house (a regular routine when his own was 'too noisy') wearing a cheap, off brand, too large t-shirt displaying an awful visual pun including a hat and a tie. That became regular, cluing Ludwig into how the Italian felt comfortable enough around him to not be embarrassed by his collection of cheesy and simple clothes. It seemed like a huge step in their mutual trust.

That trust grew more and more until Ludwig was allowed the very special, very wonderful view of Lovino’s eyes closing as he leaned up to kiss him.

And even now, months after, he still loved the man’s eyes.

But Ludwig had to admit that he preferred them closed and inches from his.


End file.
